


The Way You Should Be Loved

by CrepuscularPetrichor



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Violence, Friendship/Love, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27873874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrepuscularPetrichor/pseuds/CrepuscularPetrichor
Summary: Let me take his wrong and make it right this time
Relationships: Caleb Brewster/Benjamin Tallmadge, William Bradford/Benjamin Tallmadge
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	The Way You Should Be Loved

Caleb was dozing off in front of the TV when a sharp rap of knuckles against his door jolted him awake. He glanced at the time on the DVD player- 11:47pm. He groaned and scrubbed both hands against his face, dragging down his jaw by the scruff of his beard. There was no doubt who it would be. _What’d that asshat Bradford do this time?_ He switched off the whale documentary and tossed the remote back onto the upside down plastic tub he used as a coffee table, pushing the footrest of his recliner down until it clicked into place.

Caleb opened the door. Ben glanced towards him, up from the dirt driveway. His eyes were underlined in blue black, hands thrust into the pockets of his fur-lined jean jacket. Tiny insects buzzed around the porch light. Caleb surveyed him for a moment. 

“Well, here you are.” 

Ben scoffed, pushing past Caleb to get inside. Caleb exhaled and knocked his head against the door frame. 

In the corner Caleb generously called his kitchen, the hanging ceiling lamp grazed the top of Ben’s head. He didn’t seem to notice, chewing on his lip, nostrils flaring. The argument that had brought him here was still in front of his eyes, still on the tip of his tongue. 

Caleb approached with caution. Under the light, he could tell that the blue black stain of skin was from sleep deprivation, and not a spreading bruise. His heart clenched nonetheless, that he’d even had to check. When Caleb found Ben’s eyes, he had one instant to take in blown wide pupils, surrounded by a narrow band of blue, before Ben seized his plaid shirt in fistfuls and kissed him hard. 

Caleb allowed Ben to push him back against the counter, the peeling vinyl countertop poking into his back. He allowed the kiss to run its course, Ben’s knuckles stabbing into his chest like bony barbs. Caleb brushed his thumb over Ben’s cheekbone as he pulled away, an attempt to draw him down. To take the edge off of Ben’s viciousness. His anger had always come and gone in bursts, tempered by Caleb’s patience and affection.

“Hey, hey,” Caleb murmured. He threaded his fingers through Ben’s golden hair, turned to dun under the harsh fluorescent bulb. 

“Sorry,” Ben muttered into Caleb’s shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about it.” It was just a phrase, half-automatic, but Caleb heard the words and cringed. If Ben had ever worried about what these midnight visits did to Caleb, he’d long since stopped. He didn’t need one more thing to worry about. “C’mon, c’mere.” Caleb ran his hand down Ben’s arm and gripped his wrist. 

He led Ben silently towards the bedroom, stepping around waders and a heap of clothes that smelled like fish. As they crossed the threshold, Ben shifted his grip, pulled Caleb back against the doorframe into a kiss so sudden that Caleb felt their teeth clack together. The bite of blood prickled his tongue, the harshness of Ben’s movements too familiar, too wearying to be put into words. If only it had been done from desire, from longing, rather than desperate frustration. If Ben ever came to him like this driven by want, Caleb wouldn’t hesitate an instant. Instead he was just an outlet for the havoc another man had wrought. 

He pushed Ben back a little, nudged his nose, pressed a thumb into his skin. Soft, slow, wear the wild roughness down. 

“Are you all right?” 

Ben scowled. “I guess you’ll have to strip search me and find out.” 

Caleb paused. That was not anything like a ‘yes.’ He waited for Ben to say more, waited for anything to change, and when he was sick of waiting (which he had been the last six months of this charade), he sighed “come on, then.” 

Ben let Caleb slide his hands under the jean jacket, let him follow the fabric across stiff shoulders and down until it dropped onto the bedroom floor. Ben stared at the framed photo on the wall over Caleb’s shoulder while Caleb unbuttoned the long-sleeved flannel underneath. In the frame, two gangly boys with missing teeth and dirt-stained feet dangled missized limbs out of the branches of an apple tree. In the bedroom, two sturdy men with tired eyes and broken hearts pretended to accept the world they’d grown into.

The outline of two streaking purple bruises ran down below Ben’s collar. A fading greenish yellow blotch marred his right arm. His knuckles were scraped and red with recent use. When Caleb reached to lift Ben’s undershirt, Ben gritted his teeth but raised his arms to allow the removal of the garment. Caleb listened to Ben’s breathing as he brushed the tender patch of growing dark across his ribs. By now he knew enough to guess that they were bruised, not broken. 

Ben grunted with frustration and pulled Caleb back to the bed. He pushed him down and straddled him, pressing his knees down so his pelvis ground into Caleb’s lap. He buried his face in Caleb’s shoulder. First came the hush of breath, then the murmur of lips, last the clamor of teeth digging into Caleb’s skin. 

Caleb had always refused to let Ben storm in and raze what he’d built to the ground. Instead, he bent, he gave a little, he slowed and steadied, tamed until the anger dissipated and left Ben tired of fighting. He slid his hands up Ben’s legs, to his back, just touching him, appreciating the vitality, the vigor, the battered wholeness of him. For now. 

The teeth retreated, and Ben slumped into Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb rubbed gentle circles into the muscles at his back. They stayed that way until Caleb tugged Ben down, laying him against the pillows and curling around him like a dog. Close, warm, safe as long as he stayed in Caleb’s hold. 

“Why don’t you leave him?” Caleb mumbled into Ben’s neck. It was half-rhetorical, though part of him wanted Ben to hear his disappointment, wanted Ben to feel even more guilt and shame- if only it could be enough to get him to abandon Bradford. 

He didn’t want Ben to answer, didn’t want to hear again the refrain “I can’t” when Ben had never let that stop him from doing anything before. But Ben did answer, so softly that Caleb was sure that he misheard. 

“I will.” 

He felt his heartbeat pounding against Ben’s back. He pressed a kiss against Ben’s shoulder. This time, would he wake up to a head of gleaming gold under the early morning’s sunlight? Or once more wake up alone, with Ben gone back to a man who couldn’t stand to be outshone?

**Author's Note:**

> Multitudes of thanks to Apfelessig for beta reading this piece for me many months ago! 
> 
> Inspired by the song "Take It Out On Me" by Florida Georgia Line


End file.
